Violent Delights (White Monarch 1)

He didn’t come at first, but I felt eyes on my every move. Was it only Diego? Or both men? To have Cristiano’s interest was to put myself in the line of fire, and I was in his crosshairs now, wearing nothing more than a bandage for a dress.

Pilar had picked up a dance partner, and the man’s friend slid up behind me.

Before I could react, Pilar grabbed my arm and yanked me to her. “I-I think Cristiano de la Rosa is here.”

“He is,” I said. “I saw him.”

“Then that’s him coming over here? Why?” The cubes in her Long Island Iced Tea rattled against the glass. “What does he want?”

“Nothing with you,” I assured her.

“This is Cristiano we’re talking about, he—” She jumped when her dance partner touched her waist. Her drink fell and shattered at our feet. “Perdón,” she said, bending to pick up the glass. “I’m sorry. It slipped.”

“Don’t touch that.” I stopped her, urging her back up. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s a bastard, Talia.” Her eyes widened into saucers. “He nearly beat mi primo to death, remember? In my mom’s shop.”

“Your cousin was skimming off the top,” I told her. “And bragging about it.”

“I was there,” she whispered. “I ran into the stockroom to hide, but that was where Cristiano took him to do it. I saw the whole thing from behind some pineapple crates.”

“I know.” I rubbed my eyebrow. “But that was years ago—”

“And your mother?” she asked, raising her voice over the music. “Do you tell yourself it doesn’t matter because it was so long ago?”

The man Pilar had been dancing with closed in again as his friend slipped an arm around my waist. I swatted at him, and he backed off. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said to Pilar.

“That monster is ten times worse now—why did your father bring him here?” She took my arm, trying in vain to pull me away. “Please, we have to leave.”

“He won’t do anything, Pila. We’re in public.”

“Do you think that matters?”

I didn’t have to answer. Cristiano probably got off on taking a life in front of an audience. “Go get someone to clean this mess. I can handle Cristiano,” I said, even as a wave of doubt coursed through me.

“He has to be two meters tall. He could pick you up with one hand, Tali.” She shook her head. “You can’t be alone with him.”

“I’m not alone. Look at all these people.” My dance partner tried to slip between Pilar and me. “Déjame en paz,” I said, pushing him off, hoping Diego wouldn’t get jealous and blow his cover. “Go away.”

The man showed me his palms but continued dancing near us.

“But—” Pilar began.

I pulled her to me and whispered, “I’m fine. Diego’s here—no, don’t look for him. Is Cristiano still coming?”

“He’s walking onto the dancefloor—”

“Go to the bar,” I pleaded. “Now.”

She was trembling. “I shouldn’t leave you.”

Within moments, Cristiano’s unmistakable presence warmed my back. I inhaled slowly to calm myself, even as my palms sweat. I hadn’t knowingly been alone with him since the tunnel.

I wasn’t alone, though. Diego was here.

“Vete,” Cristiano ordered from behind me.

With the command to leave, the man circling me looked over my head and left the dancefloor.

“Go,” Cristiano said to Pilar next.

She nearly tripped over herself as she scurried to the bar.

After a moment, he spoke near my ear. “You’re more courageous than your friend.”

It went against my every instinct to keep my back to him. The hairs on my nape rose. The mix of my pounding heart and the drink I’d had formed little stars in my vision. I tried to pass off my swaying as dancing rather than nerves. It would serve me right to fall on my face for toying with the devil. Could Diego even stop Cristiano from doing what he wanted? I’d never been scared of the dark while surrounded by this many people.

“More courageous?” I asked. “Or more foolish?”

He grunted. “Where are your guards?” When I didn’t answer, he added, “Can you turn around and look at me, Natalia?”

A wild animal like him would sense my fear. I wasn’t sure if vulnerability would help or hurt me. I turned just my head over my shoulder but didn’t look at him. “Por favor. Go. I’m just here to have a girls’ night.”

“You’re a little far from home.”

“We didn’t want to run into anyone we might know. We’re not supposed to be out.”

“Ah. You’re unsupervised then.” He lowered his mouth to my ear. “I won’t ask twice. Turn . . . around. Look—at—me.”

It was no longer a request. I obeyed, facing broad, pulled back shoulders, somehow both severe and elegant. They squared off to the lean, muscular arms that had pinned me to his body as a girl, that had held me tight as we’d danced a week ago. His skull face paint had enhanced his bone structure then—or so I’d thought. Even without the mask, his angular jaw sharpened with high cheekbones and caved cheeks. A darker, more demanding beauty than his brother’s left me breathless. They had similar faces arranged like Greek gods, but where Diego’s features yielded to sun-kissed, smooth skin, Cristiano was harsher, weather-beaten with crow’s feet around his eyes. His neatly parted hair and clean-shaven face contrasted his stern expression.